I won't even mention the swift, transitory reward of lemon spray wax. Danielle Westerman and I have discussed the matter of housework. Not surprisingly, she, always looking a little dérisoire, believes that women have been enslaved by their possessions. Acquiring and then tending--these eat up a woman's creativity, anyone's creativity. But I've been watching the ways she arranges articles on a shelf, and how carefully she sets a table, even with it is just me coming into Toronto to have lunch in her sunroom.
The author reflects on a conversation with Danielle Westerman regarding the burdens of housework and material possessions. Westerman suggests that women, in particular, become trapped by their belongings, which stifles their creativity. This viewpoint indicates a sense of frustration with domestic responsibilities that can overshadow personal expression.
However, the narrator observes the beauty in Westerman's approach to tidying and arranging her home. Despite the underlying issues of materialism, the care and thoughtfulness with which Westerman sets her home serve as a testament to creativity in domestic life, showcasing the duality of household tasks as both a burden and a form of artistic expression.
